In the night the magnolia leaves look like dark water
My feet are bare by April
By June they feel each raindrop
I listen to the stories of the storms and she records them
She corrects the syntax of the thunder
I help her light candles when the power goes out
She likes to work at night when you can hear the mountains sleeping
And I like to hear her dreams
Because she dreams when the sun is coming up
And the dawn throws orange shadows on our walls

The season sees me grow sweet where I fall
The golden headed wasps keep me company

In the night she assumes shapes
Turning her bones into blackbirds
I sing to her winters
I live beneath her eyelids